She felt like a little girl dressing up in her mother’s clothes, the way she always had back when she’d been trotted out to all the parties her mother had insisted she attend.
Her mother had said that everything—even her—could be improved with a pretty dress, yet for some reason there had never been a dress that could magically improve Inara, and it was likely this dress wouldn’t either.
What would they all think when she walked into the ballroom? What would they be expecting? Probably the child bride their prince had married so foolishly all those years ago and had since forgotten.
Inara had begun to tremble with nerves when the door that led to the corridor opened and Cassius walked in. He was, as usual, surrounded by people, but he lifted a hand and they all withdrew, leaving her alone with him at last.
It had been a full week since she’d seen him in that lovely room with all the plants, and the impact of his presence was almost a physical force.
He was dressed formally, in tailored black evening clothes with no adornments bar the royal crest of the de Leon family—a set of scales signifying justice set in a jewelled pin on his lapel.
The ascetic lines of his clothing only emphasised the sheer masculine beauty of the man who wore them—his height, the width and breadth of his shoulders and chest, the lean span of his waist and the powerful length of his long legs.
His charisma was a palpable thing, regal, commanding and utterly authoritative. It made Inara’s knees weak, and her heart beat far too fast. And, when his smoky amber gaze met hers, something inside her burst into flame.
She forgot her nerves. Forgot the ball in her honour happening just outside the doors. Forgot the entire week of hell she’d endured and how he’d ignored her. She forgot everything except that at last they were in the same room.
‘C-Cassius,’ she stuttered, taking a helpless step towards him. ‘You’re here.’
‘Of course.’ His deep voice was as cool and measured as ever, the perfect lines of his face revealing nothing but calm. ‘Where else would I be?’
He was the only familiar thing she’d seen all week, and she wanted very badly to get close to him, to put a hand on his broad, hard chest and take some of his strength, some of his control and authority, for herself.
Except there was something about him that held her rooted to the spot, an icy distance that made her certain he wouldn’t like her touching him one bit.
Inara swallowed, closing her hands into fists to stop herself from wiping them on her glittering gown. ‘I...wasn’t sure. I’ve been trying to see you all week, but everyone kept saying you were busy.’
‘I was busy. Didn’t they tell you that I’d see you tonight?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘But what?’ One imperious black brow rose.
‘But...’ She stopped.
He looked so unapproachable, so untouchable. Would he really want to hear about how homesick she felt, about and how nervous she’d been and still was? How hard she’d found this week, trying to remember all the things she had to do and say and in what order?
A few years ago she wouldn’t have thought twice about confiding in him. Maybe even a few months ago. But now...it felt different. They were in the palace, in his territory, and he was the King. The heavy gold ring of state was on his right hand, and he was looking at her as if she was merely a poor petitioner come before his throne rather than his queen...
‘Nothing,’ she said at last, her mouth dry. ‘It’s fine.’
Cassius surveyed her for a second, his gaze inscrutable as it drifted from her elaborately curled hair and tiara, down over the strapless, embroidered silver bodice of her gown to the layers of tulle and crystal of its skirts.
She had no idea what he thought of it, or whether he approved, but she wanted him to be impressed with her. To think she looked like a queen at least. To think that she was beautiful...
Are you crazy? Why would he ever think that, when even your own mother thought you were at best only acceptable?
She shoved the thought out of her head, trying to force down how intimidated she felt in his presence and how the apprehension about the moment they would step out into the ballroom was getting to her. How ill it was making her.
She’d do this because that was what she’d promised him. To be his queen, one who hopefully would shame neither him nor Aveiras. Because this was important to him and she didn’t want to disappoint him.
Not like she’d disappointed everyone else.
So she didn’t speak about any of her fears, trying not to let his lack of reaction get to her. When he presented his arm, she took it, resisting clutching at it like an over-anxious child. Then they turned towards the double doors, which were then thrown open, the glittering lights and noise of the ball crashing over her like a wave.
‘His Royal Majesty, King Cassius,’ the usher announced loudly as the noise of the crowd quietened. ‘And Her Royal Majesty, Queen Inara.’
And, whether she wanted to or not, Inara found herself being drawn relentlessly into the ballroom.